Outside of Here
by dreams and desperation
Summary: Cato's got a question that's yet to be answered, and right now it's bothering him. For Belle.


"Clove?" a blonde boy asks, and the short girl turns to face her companion.

"What?" comes her reply, her face showing conflicting emotions. All at once, she appears happy and irritated and miserable, and Cato honestly isn't quite sure what to make of it all. Sometimes he thinks she actually enjoys his company, but most of the time he tends to think the opposite. Then again, he can never be sure - it is Clove, after all. His training partner, and the girl he's been obsessed with for the past two years.

Most boys would have either said something by now, or they'd have given up - but not Cato. No, he's still holding on, praying for the necessary courage that it'll take to tell her that he likes her.

That's not what he's here for right now, though. "Can I ask you a question, Clove?"

"What?" she snaps, making him flinch slightly. Even though he spends most days with her, he still gets a bit taken aback when she uses a harsh tone of voice. He's _still_ not used to it, somehow.

He hesitates for just a fraction of a moment, and the object of his affection sighs. "Look, Cato, in case you couldn't see, I'm kind of busy right now. So if you're going to actually say something, make it quick."

"Fine," he says, his response coming faster than he can ever remember responding to somebody before. "I just wondered... well, what it's _like,_ you know?"

"What _what_ is like? You're making no sense whatsoever today. Maybe you should see Doctor Diana..."

The boy's eyes widen at the girl's comment. "The psychiatrist? No chance, I'm totally sane. Anyway, regarding what I said, perhaps ' _was'_ would have been more appropriate. I mean, we're the only people left on this planet now, right?"

Once again, she shakes her head. "Sit down, Cato," Clove says, her voice now soothing. She puts down her knives and uses her hand to guide him to a place free from any weapons that could potentially fall on top of them, and she makes him sit beside her. _"Now_ you can explain."

The boy squints. "I thought you said you were busy?" he queries, making Clove roll her eyes.

"I was, but I need my training partner to be ' _sane'_ more than I need the next ten minutes of practice. Come on, say what it is you need to say. I'm listening."

Her words come as a shock to him: he's never seen her acting so _kind_ before. _Perhaps her heart really does pump warm blood, just like everybody else's,_ he thinks. And he knows that he's overcomplicating everything inside his head _yet again,_ but the way he sees it is that it's hardly _his_ fault that he loves learning about biology nearly as much as he loves Clove. If they didn't want him to like it, then why else would have they given him such an interesting teacher last year?

"Outside of Panem, Clove. Doesn't it ever occur to you how _different_ must have been out there? I mean, they'd have probably laughed in out faces if we told them about the districts and the Hunger Games. They're just so... well, _absurd,_ I guess. Nobody could have ever predicted them."

Clove just rests her head on Cato's shoulder and mutters something which sounds a bit like, "Yeah." It's unlike her to be so relaxed and unopinionated, but he likes it. It's like he's seeing the real her - the girl beyond the scary façade, that is - for the first time, and he feels truly honoured.

"They'd probably call us mad if we told them," he continues, and she chuckles.

"You know, you're probably right. Everything in Panem just seems so _random,_ when you think about it properly." She offers him a slight smile - _Well, there's a first for everything,_ he thinks - and then she places her hand on top of his, taking him aback. "You're kind of cute when you're being all philosophical, you know? It's actually quite endearing to watch," she says.

"Well, I... um..." Cato is lost for words, not knowing what to say or do now. In the end, he blurts out: "You're never cute - not _ever."_ As soon as the words are out of his mouth, however, he immediately regrets them, and he makes it his mission to make up for them. "I mean... you're fierce, and you're strong, and you're beautiful... but not _cute._ That makes you sound like some kind of bunny rabbit, but you? You're a predator - not somebody's prey."

He thinks he's screwed it up at first, the very moment he's been waiting for for such a long time now, and then she bites her bottom lip. "Thanks, I guess. But I'm not retracting my statement - your animal is _definitely_ a bunny rabbit, and you know it!" Clove jokes, making Cato laugh like he hasn't laughed in a long time.

"How did we even start talking like this?" he whispers in the end, making her roll her eyes _yet again._ (Honestly, he should just expect it by now).

"Goodness only knows, but we need to get back to training now. We need to make sure we're the best when we're eighteen, after all, Cato. This ' _absurd Hunger Games'_ thing that you talk about requires practice, you know." She winks at him, and now he's grinning like a maniac. _Maybe I've got a chance,_ he tells himself. _Just maybe..._

"That'd be sensible, yes," he says, clearing his throat. He needs to seem masculine if he wants to impress her right now, _especially_ after his little display just a mere minute ago.

The perfect pair smile as they get up and go over to knives station, and Cato decides to challenge her to a duel. "Are you out of your damn mind?" she asks, and it occurs to him that perhaps he really is, but he doesn't care right now. He shrugs, and Clove smiles at him.

"We're both totally crazy, aren't we?" she laughs, and Cato smiles back at her.

"Sanity's subjective," he teases, poking her shoulder and making her laugh even more. _And_ _when I'm with you, I'm always both the most sane and the most insane I've ever been,_ he thinks, though that's _one_ trail of thought that he's keeping to himself.


End file.
